Ordinary Miracles
by Annabeth Darcy
Summary: Just a couple fanfics about how the gang's doing after the sequel. Starts out a year or two after the last movie. Rating may change. HoND  c0 Disney/Victor Hugo


**Hunchback of Notre Dame (c) Disney and Victor Hugo.**

**Just a few fanfics about how the gang's doing after the sequel. ^v^**

"Breathe, Madellaine, breathe!"

Quasimodo winced as he heard another shrill cry come from the opposing room despite Esmeralda's soothing tone. He wrung his hands till they hurt and felt his heartbeat falter for about the millionth time that day. He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see a sympathetically smiling Phoebus.

"She be fine, Quasi," the taller man said. "Madellaine's tougher than we give her credit for." He gave a little laugh, but it couldn't mask the worry in his voice. Quasi moved his lips into a fake little smile and prayed the same prayer that had been running through his mind since that morning. Oh, please let her be alright.

Another cry came from the bedroom, a feature that had been added shortly after Quasi and Madellaine's wedding. Oh, god, how had this happened? Of course he knew how it had happened; Clopin and Phoebus's prominent use of inappropriate terms after the wedding had made sure that even Zephyr knew about that. Had it truly been nine months since Madellaine had told him the news?

Today had dragged on for what seemed an eternity, filled with worry and joy and tears and pain and more worry. At first Quasi had been happy that the time had finally come; he was going to be a father. But as the hours passed, he began to worry. Madellaine's labor was lasting unusually long, and although Esmeralda had assured him that this kind of thing happened often, some of his original worries about Madellaine's pregnancy had resurfaced. Would she and the baby be alright? They had never planned this; they knew the likeliness of a baby being born with Quasi's pain-inducing features. It had just happened. He remembered how excited and happy he had felt making a cradle and toys for their child, how everything had seemed so perfect. He had not thought ahead to this part. He clutched the edge of a nearby table to steady himself. Glancing at a mirror propped on the wooden surface, he ran a hand through his red hair, noticing a gray hair that he could have sworn had not been there this morning.

"Okay, Madellaine, we're almost ready to push..."

"She's going to be okay."

Quasimodo turned abruptly to face an unusually quiet Clopin. He was leaning on his heels against a stone table, staring ahead out an adjacent window, though Quasi doubted he could see anything. He was wearing the same expression that he often had when surveying his Court. The gypsy king seemed to hold the world in his eyes when he looked like that.

"How do you know?" Quasimodo could here his voice breaking as he said this, and Phoebus placed a supporting hand on his upraised back.

"Yeah, how do you know?" Phoebus scoffed. "Don't tell me; it's your 'gypsy intuition.'" Phoebus rolled his eyes.

Clopin stared at the soldier for a moment. "No. It's Clopin Intuition." He turned away and said nothing more to the captain. Phoebus remained silent.

A dark haired woman hurried out of the bedroom. Sweat covered her tired face, and strands of her hair stuck to her forehead. "Clopin, I need your help in here."

Without a word, the tall gypsy man straightened up and walked toward the room. Esmeralda turned to follow.

"Wait! Esmeralda, Madellaine, is she-"

"She's fine, Quasi." Esmeralda gave a tired smile and touched his arm for a moment. "I just need a little help for this part of the birthing."

"No!" A breathy voice came from the room. "Don't bring him in here! I don't want Clopin to see me like this!"

"Madellaine, honey, it's alright," Esmeralda called. "Clopin has helped many of the gypsy women during labor!"

"But, I-"

"Madellaine, cher, listen to Clopin," Clopin's voice was kind and flowed into the room like a soft wind. "Now I can come in there and make things a bit easier, or Esme could try to do this on her own. It will probably be more painful, though she does need the practice-"

"O-oh-ow! O-okay, please hurry-oh!"

Clopin and Esmeralda hurried into the bedroom. Quasimodo and Phoebus watched the door with anxious eyes, listening for any kind of sound- a shout of pain, the cry of a child, anything...but everything was quiet. Suddenly, they could hear Madellaine's breath quickening and then slowing down. Quasi's eyes grew wide. Could she be-? He took a step towards the door. Phoebus grasped his shoulder, and shook his head gently. Then they heard Clopin's voice: "Alright, alright, yes, breathe, that's right...alright, ma petite colombe, when I say three, Clopin wants you to push, alright? One...two...three!"

Madellaine struggled and pushed, grunting and breathing rapidly, until at last she heaved one final groan and they could hear the slightest sound of release, then the loud cries of a newborn infant Though Quasi and Phoebus could not see it, she flopped against the pillows, panting with exhaustion.

"You are a mama, Madellaine! To a beautiful baby girl! Oh, Esmeralda, look how beautiful she is!"

"Clopin, we can look at her later! Take the towel and clean her off! Oh, but Madellaine, she is beautiful. Congratulations!"

Quasimodo breathed a sigh of relief. His child was safe. But was his wife? He heard no response from Madellaine...his stomach began twisting into knots again...

"Quasi?" Esmeralda peeked around the door quietly. She was smiling. "Would you like to see your little girl?"

He hurried over to her. Taking her hands, which still had faint traces of red on them. "Is Madellaine..."

"She's fine. Just tired. Would you like to come see them?" She smiled warmly.

Then he was silent. He gave a nod, and without a word, Esme gently walked him into the room as he held his breath. He peeked around the door, his eyes cautiously sweeping across the room. Madellaine was propped up against the headboard, cradling a small bundle in her tired arms. The color was drained from her face, but she was smiling in a way that only a mother can explain. She looked up at her husband, beckoning him with her eyes. He carefully walked over to the bed, kneeling down beside his wife and child. She held the warm wrappings out to him,and he gently took them into his large arms. He pulled the folds of the blanket away to reveal a pink, sleeping face. Quasimodo's heart melted when he looked at her, his child, his daughter, his little angel. Her short hair curled just under her ears, the bright red locks shining under the dim lamp light. Her eyes were closed, but when they would open later they would show her mother's bright blue eyes. Her little lashes fluttered slightly against her plump cheeks, tiny snores coming from her slightly pug nose. Even though this and her slightly crooked eyebrows obviously came from her father, Quasimodo found them beautiful. Her little hands clutched at her father's round fingers in sleep, tightening as dreams swirled around in her tiny head. Quasimodo felt a tear slide down his cheek as he planted a kiss on her little forehead, placing her back in her proud mother's arms. Madellaine kissed her just the same, rocking her against her weary breast.

After a little while, Esmeralda gently took the baby from Madellaine, letting her sleep against the soft pillows. She bounced her gently, gazing at her still sleeping face before handing her back to Quasi. After placing a small kiss on the already sleeping Madellaine's forehead, Quasi stood to take the infant, cuddling her against his chest. He hummed a soft tune that he often rang on the bells of Notre Dame, deciding that it was a fitting lullaby. Clopin smiled, watching the new father with warmth in his heart. He placed a hand on the shorter man's shoulder, gently reaching down to pat the infant's soft hair. "I told you she would be alright."

Quasimodo looked back, surprised. Glancing down at his daughter, he realized what Clopin's words had meant. He didn't know how he had known, but he made a note to himself to never doubt Clopin Intuition.

"What will you name her?"

Looking at his precious child once more, Quasimodo smiled, pulling her closer to his face. Nuzzling her cheek for a moment, Clopin could just make out the words "my angel", "my flower".

"Fleur," Quasimodo answered, fresh tears spilling from his eyes.


End file.
